Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Sometimes, kids are just dicks.

     Toddlers do weird shit. Well, my toddler is doing especially weird shit because she's on medication that makes her loopy. This morning I gave her dose just before breakfast, and by the end of her meal she was face down in a pile of bananas, talking to them sternly. I wish I would have video taped it to show at her sweet sixteen party.
     Hormones are a bitch. They make you think you want to get pregnant and have some kids. Isn't it funny, the language people use to describe parenthood? Once you actually have the kids, you suddenly hear the true meaning behind the cliche's. For example, "They will change your life, but you'd never have it any other way", sounds more like, "You won't go to the bathroom alone for the next 3 years, and you will never watch porn in the living room again."
     Countless books have been written with titles like, 'What you need to know about parenting that nobody tells you', but they don't actually tell you anything you didn't already know. Chapters like, 'Potty training is hard!', and 'Your marriage will become unrecognizable', are common sense. There is a dark side, people. One of those sources of dark moments is embarrassment. I'm not talking about the kind of embarrassment caused by your kid looking like this:
Me in 6th grade. Yes, I cut my own bangs.
 I'm talking about the kind of embarrassment that makes you wonder if they are actually yours, and cause you to consider whether or not you can build them a shelter in the attic to live in until they grow out of their "awkward phase". This usually happens between year one and five. That is why they're so cute during this time. So you don't put them up for adoption. I also have a theory that children cause you to develop Stockholm syndrome.
     Anyway, if you're lucky it's just a mild form of obsessive compulsive disorder, like speaking only in third person, or making you say, "zing, zing, zing" when you put mustard on their hot dog before they eat it, like my son did. But sometimes, they're just dicks. When my brother was 3, he used to watch war movies with Grandpa a lot. One day my Dad took him shopping and when an Asian family came into the store, my brother pointed and yelled, "Daddy the Japs are coming, the Japs are coming!!!!" My Mom tells an equally awful story about when she took me to her work (in a hospital) to meet her co-workers. One of the doctors asked me if I wanted to be a nurse or a doctor when I grew up, and in front of all my Mother's friends, I replied, "No I wanna be a stripper when I grow up!" The back story on that one? Well, there were no parental controls on cable TV in those days, so I don't know. Or just the other day when Bug tried to suffocate her brother with his own sweatshirt. That was a pretty dick move on her part.
     The worst feeling parenting can give you is guilt about occasionally missing your freedom. Sometimes you just get so tired, you would give almost anything for an opportunity to be alone for a couple hours, or to go somewhere without a stroller in front of you. That is not what you are "supposed to" feel. You are "supposed to" love every minute of family life and feel that your life fucking sucked before your kids were born. And the thing is, it kind of did. Once you meet your children, who melt your heart and give you a reason to keep going in life, you really don't want to turn back. Usually, you are so in love with your children, you don't ever think about what you might be missing. But sometimes...you do.
    Things you planned with your spouse have to be put on hold. You might have to work at a job that you hate just to survive. And, if you do want to continue trying to realize your goals or save money for the future, you have the agonizing decision of choosing who or what daycare will raise your child for you while you go back to college. I think a lot of people act like that part is no big deal, but it is. Something about our society makes us believe that it's normal and perfectly okay to put our children in day-cares or drop them off with babysitters. I can't tell you for sure that it's not okay, but what I am sure of is that most parents do not want to do this. It breaks our hearts. I'm pretty sure it breaks some of our kids hearts too. My Son hated day-care, and could not understand why nobody in the family could take care of him instead of those strangers (his words). I hated dropping him off there, and grilled him for information about that place each time we left, to make sure nothing fishy was going on. This time around, me and my Husband decided we can't feel good about allowing some stranger to care for our daughter. The world is too dangerous and people are sick fucks. So, I stay home with the kids while Husband works, and we will remain poor until they get the hell out of our house. Being poor means you have to be extra inventive to entertain yourself. Example: Husband's artistic endeavor tonight was an alteration to every single model in the Catherine's catalog:

    This is my first time being a full-time Mom. At first I thought it was a dumb-ass job, even though I posted facebook quotes about how "Moms have the hardest job" and shit like that. But I didn't really believe it. Women with no education or who belong to religious cults are the only ones who choose to be housewives, right? NOPE. When it got really hard to run all the errands, create a positive home environment (ie: force myself not to murder my family over dirty socks under the desk), feed and clean up after four people on 2 to 5 hours of sleep for six months straight, I changed my tune. I have since found that this job requires a level of effort that I thought was reserved for ER doc's on the 4th of July. I have to be "on" all the time, 24 hours a day. What I do and how I do it affects every person in this house, positively or negatively. I should point out though, that their jobs around here are just as important. As Husband says, "Each member of this family has a role to play, and if one piece of this puzzle drops the ball, we all fail." That is the truth, as evidenced by them eating nothing but Hot Pockets and frozen burritos for a week when I had to go out of state.

     I really do take pride in this job now. I truly enjoy it, and I am learning to embrace the times I want to jump off the roof, too. It's all part of the journey.
     Oh shit, I was supposed to teach you something. Fuck. Okay. Here's the recipe for the bombest pork burrito you will ever have unless you got one from a hole in the wall taco shop in San Diego:

Bomb leftover pork roast burritos

Large Tortillas
Leftover pork roast from the night before
Refried or whole pinto beans
Your favorite salsa
Jack cheese, shredded
Diced onions
Some of the potatoes from the roast, if you're crazy

Instructions: Put all that shit in a tortilla and eat it.
Bon-Appetit, bitches!

(Just kidding, I like all of you very much.)


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